


The Egos: Book 1 (Part 1)

by Paradox Echo (Y_I_A_C_C_Y_D), Y_I_A_C_C_Y_D



Series: WKM: The Egos (Book 1) [1]
Category: Antisepticeye - Fandom, Who Killed Markiplier, Wilford 'MOTHERLOVING' Warfstache, jacksepticeye, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Non-Smut, Original Characters - Freeform, Other, PG, Post-Who Killed Markiplier?, Wilford 'Motherloving' Warfstache - Freeform, non-ship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-08-02 11:39:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16304498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Y_I_A_C_C_Y_D/pseuds/Paradox%20Echo, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Y_I_A_C_C_Y_D/pseuds/Y_I_A_C_C_Y_D
Summary: This is the story of Y/N, the District Attorney, and what happened after the events of Who Killed Markiplier. Though in first person, this is your story. After breaking free of the mirror Darkiplier trapped you in, you start life over again to save the world! You choose a new name for your new life: Echo.Prepare for a journey unlike any other with supernatural elements and superhero antics!





	1. Prologue: The End

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write this story in second person, but my brain just didn't work that way so it's in first. Sorry if Echo comes off a little too 'author insertion', I really tried not to make her that way.

Part 1

Prologue: [The End.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wpJYQf5uJ4w)

It was a hell of a way to die. Well that’s not quite accurate, it was actually much more complicated than just dying. It was more like being killed by accident, having a friend and his sister try to do the right thing and bring you back, then end up joining you in your body. Then you get kicked out of it by an unforeseen third entity that fused with the two of them to create a fourth, completely new person, and trap you in a mirror. Rather specific, huh? But yeah, that’s what happened to me.

Look, I don’t blame the Colonel, the man who killed me; it was an accident and he genuinely felt remorseful for it. I mean, he sat and watched my body all night, regretting his actions. And I don’t blame Damien or Celine for this... Dark thing stealing my body from me. Hell, I don’t even blame the guy who invited me to his mansion and set this whole thing off. Mark was his name, an actor I’d spoken briefly with during the divorce he’d had with Celine. Of course, that’s when I was the DA, not just a useless ghost trapped in a broken mirror.

No, I blame the Dark Entity, who I’m just going to call Dark. It was one of two entities who made Mark bring everyone around for this big farce of a poker night. The plan was set so Mark could get revenge on the Colonel for ‘stealing his wife’. Everything spiraled out of control when his body was found very, very dead the next day. Then it disappeared and things only got worse. Don’t get me wrong, I was still very much mad at him, but that was the illogical side talking. Hell, maybe even some residual evil that Dark had left when he stole my body. God, how Damien and Celine must feel, trapped and fused into that monster.

But that’s not the story I’m trying to tell. No one cares about my ‘woe-is-me’ rambling. The interesting part of my death came several years after the fact.

People came and went from the mansion, but none stayed long. My prison was moved to the attic and hidden away. I guess they could somewhat see me in that long, cracked, rectangular prison, and God knows I could see them. I pleaded for help for years, unable to hear my own voice, yet no one else seemed to ever hear me either. Some looked around, like looking for a voice they barely heard, but no one seemed to ever notice me. I felt a pang of remorse every time someone tried to see me or hear me, a wish to be alive again and a regret that they had to deal with me. But my life was done, and for years I was just another scary part of a scary house that people hated staying in.

One fateful night, though, an earthquake shook the house and my mirror fell from its perch on top of a large flat-topped wardrobe. I’d long since given up caring by that point, so neither the shaking nor the fall fazed me, but being broken is quite the wake up call. The frame of my mirror remained decently intact, since it was a very sturdy ornate wooden piece, but the already-cracked glass holding my soul, on the other hand, shattered upon collision. I won’t describe what it’s like, since to be honest, I really can’t. Not for a lack of trying; I’ve been racking my brain ever since to find the words.

But when I was shaken from my apathy, all was dark around me. However, it wasn't how it had been at night with the sheet over my only view to the outside world. It was more like the darkness behind eyelids while sleeping. No, that’s not quite it either; it was closer to sleep paralysis. The feeling like you’re supposed to be able to move but can’t and all you see is an oppressive black expanse of nothing. I’d grown so used to being an inanimate object that this new feeling was... wrong. It was so very wrong to my sensory-deprived mind. In this new state, I could feel again, but not like I had while alive. It was ethereal. The sort of half-feeling, half-imagined-feeling sensation you sometimes get while dreaming.

I’m not proud to admit I panicked. I felt some semblance of the bullet that killed me and the broken neck I’d received upon falling over the second floor banister. It was faded and dull, barely teasing at the edges of my awareness. That’s about when I tried to scream. I’d done so before in vain, so not hearing my own voice was a welcome reprieve. What I didn’t expect was a deep, multi-layered, masculine voice to respond.

“So I see you’ve managed to free yourself,” it taunted, “It’s been a long time. I’m honestly amazed you were able to get free at all.”

I swore I knew the voice. It sounded like my friend Damien, but there was none of the warmth with which he’d always spoken. It also sounded like Mark, but it lacked the jovial laughter I’d come to know from him. Not only that, but it sounded like the Colonel only saner, suaver, and calmer. There was only one person who could own that multi-tiered voice. It had to be Dark. It had to be the bastard who took my friends’ souls and kicked me out of my broken body.

A spike of anger flushed through me, cutting through the panic. I searched the nothingness around me in vain, silently demanding him to show himself.

“No, not yet. You don’t get to see me yet. Though, I do suppose I should... thank you. Without you trusting your ‘friends’, I wouldn’t be here. So how about I give you a choice? You deserve at least that much.”

About then, I noticed an excruciatingly high pitched ringing filling my awareness. I tried to block it out, but no amount of willpower I applied so much as dulled it. After what seemed like forever to my fatigued mind, I figured I’d humor him and ask what choices I had, if only to get rid of the ringing.

“I could set you free of this place, give you a new body and a new life. Or, I could bring you back to me and give you your body back. Better yet, I could even give you your friends back! Or you can stay here. It’s up to you.”

Well, that didn’t work like I’d hoped; the ringing was still there and I could feel his smugness. He wasn’t really giving me choices here. No matter what I chose I played into his hand. Every option came with a price I wouldn’t be able to pay. Or a price someone else would have to pay.

It was true I missed Damien a lot; he’d been one of my closest friends all throughout university, and he was the only one who wanted to help me in the mansion when things went tits up. Hell, he was the only one who really wanted to help me after I’d died. But I still couldn’t bring myself to trust Dark. There was an undertone to his echoing voice that mercilessly mocked me. I’d heard it before when Celine and Damien asked me to trust them and let them in when I’d been killed, and I wasn’t going to trust that intonation again.

So I chose none of them.

“Is that so? Well, you have to make a choice at some point. You can’t choose to stay here and choose to leave,” he said, sounding equal parts amused and frustrated. “Not making a choice is still choosing, after all. I am in control here. I own this place.”

I didn’t care what he said. I wasn’t going to trust him again; I knew better now. I knew better because he’d taken my friends, my life, my body from me. He wasn’t going to take what was left.

“And how do you intend to take back control? You don’t have a body, and you’re so broken that you’re barely a soul.”

Well, I sure as shit wasn’t going to take a body from someone else. Nor was I going to merge with two other souls to become whole as he had. I’d figure something out one way or another.

“You’re so faded you barely exist, and yet you think you can just… Defy me? No. Take one of my offers. It’ll be better for you.”

I’d rather fade away. I knew if I chose any of his options, it’d give him more power and put the world in greater danger than it already was. I’d rather be torn apart and out of his reach than give him any modicum of power. As I continued to defy him, I slowly became aware of color in the blackness. Blue and red. The colors Damien and Celine had had before... Before I’d been reduced to this. I wanted to call out to them, I tried to, but my call was answered by Dark laughing softly.

“They’re not here anymore. They’re me, but I’m not them. You do know that, don’t you?”

I demanded he let them go.

“And then what? You want me to simply stop existing? I don’t think so. But if you’re so dead set on getting them back, I could–”

I stopped him there with an absolute negative. No, I was going to get them back on my own, even if I had to destroy myself to destroy him.

“And just how would you do that?” He asked with amusement, but I could tell that I was getting on his nerves.

In an instant he was before me, just as he’d been when he trapped me in that God-forsaken mirror. Looking like Damien, but not. Red and blue outlining him in chromatic aberrations, blackness under and in his eyes, and an aura that would’ve left me unable to breathe if he hadn’t stolen my lungs. A cruel, almost angry smile graced his face and he stretched and cracked his… no, my broken neck, the sound pierced the darkness in a dichotomy that was as jarring as his duotone appearance. I heard the bones snap and the cartilage crackle and would have winced if not for the lack of a face. It was as disgusting as the rest of him.

I made sure he knew what he could do with himself. He’d already put too many lives at risk and taken far too many more. I wasn’t about to feed his power. I’d become the district attorney to protect my city and make things right, and even though I was dead, I was still going to try. I wasn’t going to let him take my soul.

His sarcastic smile turned to a sneer and he laughed sardonically.

“You don’t seem to quite get it, you are a soul. Well you had been, now you’re just a Faded Echo. But tell me, how would you protect anyone? Amuse me.”

I faltered, unable to come up with anything. I really didn’t know how I’d do anything at all.

“With inner strength and light.”

I started at the sudden voice, shaken to my core. I searched for the origin of the unexpected words, but all I saw was Dark and the empty surroundings, yet I felt–. Wait. I felt! I could feel! Yes, there was the pain: echoes from the bullet in my heart, crackling reminders of my broken neck. Plus, there were my tired eyes, something I was unfamiliar with... But it was a sense of being whole, complete. As though the parts of me that had died or been taken were coming back. I was being pulled back together! But by what? Who was doing this?

“Damien and Celine were right, you are special,” the unfamiliar voice addressed me, devoid of malice and seemingly full of sincerity and a calming kindness. Was this God?

“Oh no, nothing like that. I am not The Creator. I work behind the scenes, using my power to protect the multiverse. You hold that same power, young Echo, if you truly have the strength to deny the darkness and the will to protect life.”

Dark looked around with an urgency borne of terror, which reflected in his eyes despite his attempts to hide it. A sudden feeling of reflection, of truly seeing things, made me realize that I was being given a choice as to whether or not to trust this voice; it wasn’t going to manipulate me into doing what it wanted. It was order and balance, light but also shadow. I sensed that Dark wanted the return of his near-complete control, to get rid of this inexplicable voice, this invisible light that somewhat banished the no longer ever-present darkness.

With everything happening all at once, my conviction rose. I wanted to protect those in my world, and if I held the power to do so as this voice claimed I did, I would absolutely do everything to unlock it.

“Don’t you dare!” Dark demanded, lunging towards me with his hands aimed at my... throat?

I wasn’t formless anymore? How and when did that happen? I didn’t have time to ponder it as I reacted instinctively, raising my hands to meet his.

“You’re strong, Faded One,” the Light encouraged, “It’s time to become whole again. I’ve catalyzed your revival, now resurrect yourself!”

Dark’s hands burned mine as we collided and an agonizing electric shock coursed through my whole form. I grit my teeth against the pain and held my ground, drawing on all my might to push him back.

“You can’t do this!” He yelled in my face, glitching into separate gestures of fear and fury, “I am in control here!”

“You stole control!” I spat with a clenched jaw, jumping at the sudden strength of my own voice ringing out where once had only been silence, “I’m taking it back!”

With every ounce of strength I could muster, I shoved him back. He stumbled, but remained upright and snarled at me, clearing his throat and popping his neck again. “Fine. But know this: I gave you a choice and this is what you chose.”

Then all at once he was gone. The ringing, the color, everything. All that was left was me, the nothingness, and the feeling of the Light.

“Your resolve is truly strong,” it said approvingly.

“I... er... Thank you? But um... wh-why help me?” I asked, looking for anything in the truly empty expanse of nothing.

“You chose to defy the darkness despite all temptation. You’ve spent plenty of time trapped by it and still you didn’t let it consume you. You have strength, and you want to use it to do what’s right. You can’t accomplish that here, but with your determination, you can back in your world.”

I raised an eyebrow, as much surprised to have one to raise as I was curious what this… being meant.

“That... didn’t really answer my question.”

“I suppose not. I came to help you because your conviction to protect the beings of your world called me here. You had every option to turn to darkness, but you chose to stand by your morals and so I come offering new life to you, Faded One. You can live again and bring order to your world, fight back the darkness.”

“What do I need to do?” I wanted to know, “But wait– what makes you different from Dark? You’re offering choices like he did.”

“I am, but the difference is that I gain nothing from them, while you have the potential to gain much. I offer two choices: you can live again in your old world, or you can cross over to the afterlife. But know that if you choose to live again, you’ll become something different. A soul whose purpose is to defend the multiverse, as mine is. I can only do so much from behind the scenes, but you would be able to physically interact with the worlds, doing what I cannot.”

“Okay, where’s the catch?” I asked, suspicious, “There’s always a catch to these. I really do want to live again and I’m not ready to move on, but…” I trailed off, unsure how to complete that sentence.

“There is sort of a ‘catch’, yes. A caveat, one might say. It is this: you won’t be able to die until you’ve successfully completed or irreparably failed your mission in a life. And when you do die, you’ll be brought back to a place like this to await reincarnation into another world with another mission. One could consider it a restless existence.”

I mulled this over for a while. The chance to protect the world– the multiverse– at the cost of no true afterlife? I’d done enough years of ‘resting’ in the mirror, and that had already felt like an eternity. Of course, a chance to really rest would be very welcome. But I just didn’t feel ready to move on and rest in peace. No, I wanted life again. I wanted to do what I never got the chance to do before. Resting would have to wait; I knew what I needed to do.

“I’ll do it. But please, don’t bring me back by taking someone else’s body from them. I won’t do that to someone else. Even if they’d already died.”

I felt the Light smile comfortingly, “I can give you a new body. However, since the one you call Dark is, among many others, already spreading evil in your world, it would be detrimental to let you reincarnate the normal way. We’ll make you a new body and a new life entirely. But you can’t look the same as you had before. That life is over after all.”

“What will I look like?”

“I am unsure. You will have to find out.”

“I’m ready, then,” I said with a nod. “How do we bring me back?”

“That is simple. All you have to do is wake up.”

“I– what?”

“Wake up!”


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After waking up, Y/N discovers that they're someone new! They have to come to terms with their new identity and mission now, but they need to get on their feet before any of that happens. Time to gather allies to bring balance to the world! But who should they go to? The only person they can think of would be the man who caused this madness to begin with. 
> 
> But can they face him?  
> Can they make Mark face what he's done and fix it?

Chapter 1

 

With a sputter, a gasp, and a short fit of coughing, I awoke. I was cold, wet, and my chest and neck hurt like hell. But I felt air around me, a pulse within me, and– oh no. I opened my eyes slowly, blearily, and sat up with a hoarse groan. The light patter of drizzle reached my ears in the darkness of the night, giving an explanation for the cold, especially since… Yep, I was naked. Glorious. I supposed it could’ve been worse; I could still have been trapped in the mirror, or worse yet, I could still be dead.

 

But whose body was this? I looked down, my new eyes unable  to focus enough to clearly distinguish my features. I held my throbbing head in one hand and felt around this strange new form with the other. It was a body built for speed. Muscular, but lean. I didn’t really want to know what sex I was now; could I really trust that I was in a completely new body? Or was I in someone else’s? I decided that was definitely something I should figure out.

 

As I continued my tactile self-examination, I noticed my sternum had a decently sized divot in it, the same place I’d been shot all those years ago. It wasn’t an entry wound though; there was neither blood nor scarring. My hand wandered from my head to my neck, where I noticed some very  out of place cervical vertebrae where my neck had been broken. I guessed I retained some physical traits from my  death . I took a deep breath and looked around as my eyes finally began to clear and adjust. 

 

I appeared to be in some kind of alleyway, resting on the cold cement. I was naked as the day I was born, which upon contemplation, was suitably  fitting. I spied an off-white fitted sheet to my right and promptly draped it over myself  to hopefully retain some heat and dignity. The shivers were already starting to set in, my new body ineffectively trying to keep itself warm. The sheet did very little to help in the process, but it did help me feel more at ease by hiding my indecency. Tilting my head upwards, I saw little more than apartments and cloudy skies, no indication of where I was. As I looked down again, my neck popped angrily, sending  shock-waves of pain down my whole spine, causing me to groan once more. My voice was higher, more feminine, but I’d always had a fairly androgynous voice when I was ‘Y.N. the DA’. Which brought me back to the question of who I was now.

 

The cold started to become painful, telling me I had to get out of the rain soon, so my best answer would have to be ‘whoever I make myself’. I stood as best I could on new and wobbly legs and stumbled my way out to the street. Luckily for me, I appeared to be on the same road as the police station, I’d have the best luck finding out if I was in someone else’s body there. All I had to do was  act the amnesiac I technically was. I shakily made my way to the police station, hoping I looked as confused as I felt with my very stained, stinky, very wet sheet covering my naked shame. 

 

The young woman at the reception desk gasped, her eyes flying open wide at the sight of me. She stood and quickly crossed the twenty or so feet to the doorway, talking quietly over a  walkie-talkie about something probably relating to a naked person shivering in the lobby.

 

“Are you alright? Has there been an emergency?” She asked, taking me by the shoulders and leading me around the reception desk to a back room where a cop and a paramedic hurried to meet us.

 

I didn’t answer beyond a shake of my head. I didn’t know. For all I knew there had been, and the person in whose body I now resided had gone missing. Could have been gone for a while. I gave the assembled people the closest approximation of a face to match my bewilderment.

 

“Are you injured?” Asked the tall, blond paramedic, whose name tag identified as  [ Jerry ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PDKamEplVj4) . 

 

He couldn’t have been much older than 30, with smiling blue eyes and too many freckles. He looked as much the part of paramedic as I did a circus clown. He had a little gap in his two front teeth that reminded me of a kid I'd once known, and when he spoke, despite how serious the situation was right now, I couldn’t help but think of him as a kid playing pretend. He seemed professional enough, certainly acted it, but I digressed. 

 

We entered the room as I studied the cop. He was Latino, shorter, and clean cut. His serious, round brown eyes gave him a no-nonsense air that was rather intimidating, but I tried not to let it show and turned my attention back to Jerry.

 

I shook my head again, but stopped. “M-maybe? My chest and neck hurt,” I croaked.

 

The receptionist led me to a chair and had me sit down. I gratefully sat with a nod and looked back at Jerry as he seated himself across from me and took my pulse. The cop sat beside me and placed a file of what looked like statement papers on the table in front of him as the receptionist left the room.

 

“Name?” the cop, whose badge read Officer Hernandez, asked.

 

“I… don’t know,” I replied, my brain scrambling for something to call myself. I couldn’t be ‘Y.N. the DA’ again, so what should I call myself? I supposed I’d been called  Faded and  Echo a lot recently, but  Faded wasn’t a name, “Um… E- echo ?”

 

“Echo?” he repeated disbelievingly, eyebrow raised as he looked up from the papers. 

 

“I-I think?” Was all I could reply.

 

Jerry seemed satisfied with my pulse as he pulled a stethoscope from around his neck with one hand and a pen and notepad from his breast pocket with the other. He set the notepad and pen down, plugged the stethoscope into his ears, then began taking notes as he listened to my heart. I watched him intently, fascinated by how smoothly he did his job. I was pulled out of my reverie when Hernandez tapped my shoulder, informing me that Jerry had a wife.

 

“I – sorry, what?” I asked.

 

“I asked if that was a first or last name,” he said with a slight hint of weariness.

 

“L-last, I think,” I said,  realizing that I still didn’t know my gender.

 

Jerry seemed done with my heart and moved behind me to listen to my lungs.

 

“And what happened to bring you in here, naked, at almost midnight?” Hernandez prodded.

 

I took a deep breath before hesitating, “I have no idea. I woke up in an alleyway. Honestly, I don’t even know who or where I am.”

 

The line of questioning went on like this for some time; lots of questions I had no answers to. Jerry said I was decently healthy, but with signs of significant vertebral damage and that I’d probably be best off getting checked into the hospital. He took his leave to inform the hospital staff of a possible Jane Doe (Jane? So I was female?) with cervical trauma, bidding goodbye to Dave (Hernandez’s first name, I guessed) and giving me a reassuring smile.

 

“Don’t worry, we’ll find out who you are. The police here are real good at that,” he bid as he left.

 

I nodded and Dave pulled out a fingerprinting kit from a briefcase on the table I hadn’t noticed before. He took my fingerprints and a cheek swab  DNA sample before I was escorted to the hospital. After some time, I was hooked up to a heart monitor, on a saline drip for dehydration, and told to rest under the warmed blankets. Since it was so late, it would be a couple hours before they could X-Ray my neck to see if I required surgery, so I lay in the awkward position I was instructed to and contemplated my next move. I needed to find out  if this body had an identity or if I truly was someone new, but if I was  right I also needed to find allies to help me combat  Dark . I wondered who I’d go to. Had I still been DA, I would have gone to Damien, but that was impossible now for several reasons. 

 

_ ‘Wait _ ,’ I thought,  _ ‘Didn’t he say something about Mark walking around in his body all those years ago? Maybe I ought to pay our old ‘friend’ a visit... Wonder if he held on to Damien’s position as  _ _ mayor _ _?’  _ So I had an echoic thought process now, interesting.

 

Another thought crossed my mind. What of the Colonel? I should see if I can find him. The TV above my bed turned itself on and Damien’s face popped up on the screen, giving a speech about… Hold on, wait!  _ That was Mark _ ! This was a recent newsreel about something the  mayor did for the  city ! I almost stood up and definitely yelled.

 

“That’s Mark!” I hollered at the screen before I could stop myself, “Don’t you dare call him Damien, you monsters!”

 

A nurse with steely eyes and  grey hair sped into my room with a serious and concerned expression, “What’s wrong? Why are you yelling?”

 

I  realized what I was doing and gulped, lying back down as if nothing happened, “S-sorry, I… I don’t know what came over me.”

 

“ Hmph . Are you feeling alright? Your heart rate is extremely high,” she noted, looking at the loudly beeping monitor.

 

I had to lie my way out of that one with my foot in my mouth, but eventually the nurse was assuaged and turned the TV off. Apparently it had been turning itself on for a while now. Once I was alone again, I thanked the universe for showing me Mark and resumed resting.

 

After all was said and done with the X-Ray, I was instructed to wait until the police found my identity or I remembered something. So all there was to do was sleep and wait. The  misaligned vertebrae weren’t a huge deal, I’d just need a chiropractor. It was good to know my neck wasn’t broken… again. My sleep was fitful, haunted by Dark in the void, taunting me a little differently each time.

 

“Get out of my head,” I snarled one night.

 

“You would like that, wouldn’t you? But no, I don’t think I will. You and I are connected, after all. Since I’ve got you here again, we can talk civilly,” he mocked.

 

“What do you want?”

 

“I just want a chance to talk with you. You’ve become someone new, but you still don’t have any idea what you’re doing. That means I’m still in control,” he grinned sadistically, clasping his hands behind his back, “But I suppose I can give you a hint, since you still deserve something for creating me.”

 

“Oh, go fuck a cactus.”

 

He 'tsk'ed, “That’s not very ladylike.  But here, I’ll leave you with this: go find a friend of mine. His name is Seán.” He smirked and bowed, then disappeared as I was shaken from sleep.

 

Dr. Mallard had been alerted to my dream by the heart monitor and needed to make sure I was okay. I told him I was fine, just a really bad dream. 

 

“I know I told you to rest, and you still should, but I’m starting to suspect you may be concussed. Try not to doze off and I’ll schedule some tests, okay?” He said.

 

I shrugged dismissively, “Alright, I guess. I’ll try my best.”

 

“I’ll let you know when we’re ready for the tests,” he told me, standing up and leaving, “I’ll get a nurse around to keep an eye on you.”

 

I grunted in response, thinking hard about what Dark had told me to do.

 

‘ _ Go find Seán, huh? How about I don’t and say I didn’t? I don’t think I’d like him if he’s  _ _ Dark _ _ ’s friend. He sounds like really bad news. _ ’ 

 

The next few days were spent trying to come up with memories that didn't exist and praying no identity for my body was found. The visits with the chiropractor were mercifully short, though painful as we reset my neck, and an MRI was done to make sure I didn’t have a severe concussion. As I suspected, I was concussion free. Another relief came when Officer Hernandez came by to explain that my fingerprints came back negative, my  DNA wasn’t in the system, and there were no missing persons that matched my description.

 

At this point, I’d caught glances of myself in windows and studied my face (and less  savory features) in the hospital’s mirrors, even though I hated them for well-explored reasons. I was indeed female. My eyes were hazel-green and had a hint of a slant to them. I couldn’t tell if I had Asian heritage or not since my hair was wavy, strawberry blonde, about shoulder length. My nose was a little big, but I don’t know why I was concerned with that. I was pasty, but there was definitely a hint of olive to my skin tone. I could very possibly have Asian heritage. I definitely was not the prettiest girl in the world.

 

I could work with this, though, since I was still pretty androgynous and flat chested. Ah but what the hell, I thought I was okay-looking all the same. Just enough to blend in and go pretty much unnoticed in a  crowd, which I figured would work to my benefit. 

 

As I got more used to my new form, I started to notice some peculiarities about myself. At first I made nothing of it, but over time I started  realizing that I would just suddenly be places with no memory of  travelling there and no time seeming to have passed between when I wanted to get there and getting there. Something seemed dreadfully familiar about this, and I didn’t like it. I’d noticed something like this back then, hadn’t I?

 

Others noticed it, too. Nurses, doctors, and other patients would gasp or shriek and ask me how I got here, to which I had no definitive answer. Sometimes I’d find myself out of the hospital and have to trudge my way back, getting to know the three or so blocks around it quite well before I would have to be discharged. I was released into police custody after a week, and the search for some identity came up. More often than not, I would sit in an apartment granted to me by the state as we tried to find my identity and come up with memories that still just didn’t exist.

 

Several months after my discharge, I sat in the kitchenette of my little apartment across from Sandra, my caseworker, as we had a small breakfast and talked over my file. We’d become something like friends in the short time we’d known each other, even if she always seemed a little exasperated with my whole zero-memories issue.

 

“Look, you’ve got to have some memory of someone who might be able to identify you. I don’t care if it’s the governor at this point,” She sighed, “But you’ve  gotta help me beyond ‘I don’t know’.”

 

I’d been fighting with  Dark in most of my dreams and I was getting desperate to find people who could help me. So as I rubbed my eyes over a mug of weak coffee, I mumbled, “ Mayor Damien might be able to help me.”

 

“The  mayor ?” she asked disbelievingly, “Don’t be sarcastic and unhelpful now.”

 

“M ’ not being sarcastic,” I responded slowly, “Dun’ have the energy.”

 

“More nightmares?”

 

“You know it.”

 

By this point, I’d been working at a coffee shop as a  barista to pay my medical bills and try to get on my feet, and as such I’d grown quite addicted to coffee. Damn  Dark and his head-games! I didn’t want to have any vices in this life, they’d only slow me down!

 

“Hey,  Echo , come back to Earth!” She said, snapping her fingers next to my ear, “Sandra to  Echo , come in  Echo , how’s Mars, over?”

 

I nearly snorted coffee up my nose in surprise, having dozed off with my eyes open again. I’d managed to fall asleep with a sip of coffee in my mouth this  time, and had to stop everything in a coughing fit while I choked. Sandra covered a laugh with a cough that I didn’t dignify with a response. Despite the lack of help I’d been so far, she and I managed to be on good terms and she patted me on the back while I cleared my airways.

 

“So about the  mayor being able to help you,” she prodded once I could breathe again without tears in my eyes.

 

“Yeah,” I croaked, “It’s not quite a memory, but I swear to you I know he can help me.”

 

“ Y’know what? I’ll  humor you. This is the first possible lead we’ve had in weeks besides this Seán name you’ve brought up, so to hell with it. I’ll call up his office and see if we can’t get you a meeting with him.”

 

With that, she stood up, grabbed the phone book, and walked over to my kitchen phone. I sat at the table, wondering what I’d say to Mark if I got face-to-face with him. Part of me wanted to play coy and fuck around, but another part of me said to play it straight. I stared into my coffee, hoping to scribe some answer out of it. If it had any, it wasn’t going to talk that easily and remained silent. Celine would be able to get an answer, but she was gone. If Damien were still around, I could just call him up and chat but he was gone too. 

 

I sighed and growled at my brown-tinted reflection. Mark was at least partially responsible for this and I was going to confront him with it. He was going to help me set things right whether he wanted to or not. He’d gotten off scot free for what had happened in his mansion and I was going to bring him to some form of justice, whether or not I was the DA.

 

“He has?” I overheard Sandra say to someone over the phone once I was done begging my coffee for answers, “When’s he free next?”

 

I guessed Mark had heard of me and wanted to play the good  mayor and do something to help a poor amnesiac. I scoffed inwardly, tired and cranky to the point where everything just  spiraled in on itself and dragged a bad mood out of me. I pounded the rest of my coffee and stood up, told Sandra that I was going to go shower and stalked to the bathroom, silently fuming. It may have been my day off, but no matter how busy Mark was, he and I were going to have a long heart-to-heart. I wanted to be at least presentable when I punched him in the nose. I closed the bathroom door and stripped, yanked my hair out of its short ponytail with a wince, and ran myself a cold shower. 

 

I had discovered I don’t like hot showers in this life, but cold ones aren’t much fun to stay in long, so I rushed through my usual routine and got out as fast as I could. I grabbed a towel, announced I was coming out, and gave Sandra only a couple seconds to react before I bolted from the bathroom down the  hall to my bedroom. Since I was going to meet with the  mayor , I pulled out my only decent set of clothes, the ones that weren’t from Goodwill, and stared at them long and hard until I felt real again. My therapist, Danny, called it dissociation and said it’s a type of coping mechanism. I called it annoying and didn’t know what I was coping with besides the trauma of... you know, dying.

 

After I stuffed myself into pantyhose, decent soft-pink shoes, and my tan skirt suit, I walked out into the living room where Sandra waited with an excited look in her eyes.

 

“You’ll never believe it!”

 

“Did he agree to see me?” I asked with a half  eye-roll .

 

She was bouncing on the balls of her feet, “Yes! And today!”

 

This dragged my eyebrow upwards. I’d already planned on seeing him  regardless of today being a good day for him, but for him to just agree? Something smelled fishy to me.

 

“When’s he free?” I wanted to know, trying to hide the nervous adrenaline spiking into my system. There was no way he could’ve known who I was. Yet.

 

“Whenever! I spoke with him directly and he said whenever you get the time is good for him.”

 

Okay yeah, that’s suspect as all hell and my eyebrow arched further, “That’s… convenient. You seem awfully excited, Sand, what’s up with you?”

 

“This may be the break we’ve needed is all,” she said, taking a breath and composing herself, “I’ll be glad to see you get some memories back.”

 

I shrugged, jerking my thumb at the door, “Wanna get going? I’d wanted to talk with Dan today, but this is more important.”

 

She agreed and we set out, quickly locking up behind us and making our way down the three flights of stairs to the parking lot and her car. We were both panting softly by the time we got there and the ride to City Hall was a quiet one, despite her Fleetwood Mac CD being cranked far too loud. Who listens to Fleetwood Mac on full blast? No one but Sandra, I reasoned. 

 

Climbing the steps of City Hall, I realized just how nervous I was. This was the man whose insidious plot for revenge got me killed, and I was just going to waltz up out of nowhere, looking completely different, and confront him with his past sins. I was no priest! Hell, I was just some amnesiac barista with two inch heels that made her a towering 5’3”. Damien had been 5’10” for as long as I’d known him, but this was years later, so who knew how the time had changed his body, especially with Mark in control. What I was getting at, as I panted in the doorway of the white and beige building, was that there was no way I’d be intimidating to the guy.

 

Sandra stood at my side, panting as well. She was several years older and around sixty pounds heavier, and so fared worse on cardio day than I did. Not that I’d become athletic recently. I stretched my legs and back while Sandra and I waited for our breathing to return to normal. Once we were able to breathe normally again, we set off, this time taking the elevator. We talked about nothing in particular as we rode the few floors up, mostly complaining about stairs and how exercise should be illegal.

 

About halfway up, I  realized that I forgot to put on makeup and before I could  rationalize it, a spike of adrenaline shot through me like a lightning bolt. My chest went tight and my head swam. A full-on anxiety attack was coming, and I had to pause and remind myself it didn’t matter if I wore makeup or not and that, in this very moment, I was doing what I was put back on this world to do. Why did I even care? I never wore makeup! I took several deep breaths, in through the nose and out through the mouth, centering myself successfully. I’d have to thank Danny for that exercise.

 

“You okay, girl?” Sandra asked, putting her hand on my shoulder.

 

I looked up and smiled ruefully, “Yeah, just nervous. I didn’t put on makeup.”

 

She laughed and shook her head, “You look fine. Maybe a little tired, but fine. You’re young, you don’t have to worry about makeup yet, anyway. This isn’t about appearances anyway, this is about getting your life back!”

 

_ ‘In more ways than one,’ _ I thought.

 

I took a deep breath as the elevator chimed and the doors opened, “Let’s do this!”

 

We walked down the  hall and into the secretary’s office where Sandra introduced herself to the guy at the desk. The word I found best described him was ‘squirrelly’, as he reminded me a lot of my first impressions of Jerry. He was very thin and wiry, built like a gymnast, with deep brown hair, lots of acne scars, and wide, blue eyes. He looked like someone’s kid brother and I had the most intense desire to protect this kid. I didn’t care if he was a kid or not, I wanted to protect him.

 

He said hello and I noticed his name plank read ‘Ethan’. I didn’t  recognize him, so I guessed he was newer. Amy must’ve left sometime while I was trapped in the mirror. I smiled when he looked at me and offered his hand. I took it with as confident a shake as I could and bid the pleasantries despite my brain running a million miles per hour. We talked for a brief moment about what we hoped to do and I asked if I could see ‘Damien’ in his office. Sandra offered to go in with me, but I wanted to talk alone, so I made up some BS about feeling like other people would interfere with recovery. Ethan said it should be alright and hit a button on what looked like a phone receiver and notified ‘Damien’ that I was there. Sandra nodded with a big, confident smile and went to sit in one of the many comfortable-looking chairs around the foyer.

 

My heart pounded when I heard Damien’s voice tell Ethan to show me in and I knew there was no turning back now.


	3. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After waking up, Y/N discovers that they're someone new! They have to come to terms with their new identity and mission now, but they need to get on their feet before any of that happens.
> 
> Time to gather allies to bring balance to the world! But who should they go to? The only person they can think of would be the man who caused this madness to begin with.   
> But can they face him?  
> Can they make Mark face what he's done and fix it?

With a sputter, a gasp, and a short fit of coughing, I awoke. I was cold, wet, and my chest and neck hurt like hell. But I felt air around me, a pulse within me, and– oh no. I opened my eyes slowly, blearily, and sat up with a hoarse groan. The light patter of drizzle reached my ears in the darkness of the night, giving an explanation for the cold, especially since… Yep, I was naked. Glorious. I supposed it could’ve been worse; I could still have been trapped in the mirror, or worse yet, I could still be dead.

 

But whose body was this? I looked down, my new eyes unable  to focus enough to clearly distinguish my features. I held my throbbing head in one hand and felt around this strange new form with the other. It was a body built for speed. Muscular, but lean. I didn’t really want to know what sex I was now; could I really trust that I was in a completely new body? Or was I in someone else’s? I decided that was definitely something I should figure out.

 

As I continued my tactile self-examination, I noticed my sternum had a decently sized divot in it, the same place I’d been shot all those years ago. It wasn’t an entry wound though; there was neither blood nor scarring. My hand wandered from my head to my neck, where I noticed some very  out of place cervical vertebrae where my neck had been broken. I guessed I retained some physical traits from my  death . I took a deep breath and looked around as my eyes finally began to clear and adjust. 

 

I appeared to be in some kind of alleyway, resting on the cold cement. I was naked as the day I was born, which upon contemplation, was suitably  fitting. I spied an off-white fitted sheet to my right and promptly draped it over myself  to hopefully retain some heat and dignity. The shivers were already starting to set in, my new body ineffectively trying to keep itself warm. The sheet did very little to help in the process, but it did help me feel more at ease by hiding my indecency. Tilting my head upwards, I saw little more than apartments and cloudy skies, no indication of where I was. As I looked down again, my neck popped angrily, sending  shock-waves of pain down my whole spine, causing me to groan once more. My voice was higher, more feminine, but I’d always had a fairly androgynous voice when I was ‘Y.N. the DA’. Which brought me back to the question of who I was now.

 

The cold started to become painful, telling me I had to get out of the rain soon, so my best answer would have to be ‘whoever I make myself’. I stood as best I could on new and wobbly legs and stumbled my way out to the street. Luckily for me, I appeared to be on the same road as the police station, I’d have the best luck finding out if I was in someone else’s body there. All I had to do was  act the amnesiac I technically was. I shakily made my way to the police station, hoping I looked as confused as I felt with my very stained, stinky, very wet sheet covering my naked shame. 

 

The young woman at the reception desk gasped, her eyes flying open wide at the sight of me. She stood and quickly crossed the twenty or so feet to the doorway, talking quietly over a  walkie-talkie about something probably relating to a naked person shivering in the lobby.

 

“Are you alright? Has there been an emergency?” She asked, taking me by the shoulders and leading me around the reception desk to a back room where a cop and a paramedic hurried to meet us.

 

I didn’t answer beyond a shake of my head. I didn’t know. For all I knew there had been, and the person in whose body I now resided had gone missing. Could have been gone for a while. I gave the assembled people the closest approximation of a face to match my bewilderment.

 

“Are you injured?” Asked the tall, blond paramedic, whose name tag identified as  [ Jerry ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PDKamEplVj4) . 

 

He couldn’t have been much older than 30, with smiling blue eyes and too many freckles. He looked as much the part of paramedic as I did a circus clown. He had a little gap in his two front teeth that reminded me of a kid I'd once known, and when he spoke, despite how serious the situation was right now, I couldn’t help but think of him as a kid playing pretend. He seemed professional enough, certainly acted it, but I digressed. 

 

We entered the room as I studied the cop. He was Latino, shorter, and clean cut. His serious, round brown eyes gave him a no-nonsense air that was rather intimidating, but I tried not to let it show and turned my attention back to Jerry.

 

I shook my head again, but stopped. “M-maybe? My chest and neck hurt,” I croaked.

 

The receptionist led me to a chair and had me sit down. I gratefully sat with a nod and looked back at Jerry as he seated himself across from me and took my pulse. The cop sat beside me and placed a file of what looked like statement papers on the table in front of him as the receptionist left the room.

 

“Name?” the cop, whose badge read Officer Hernandez, asked.

 

“I… don’t know,” I replied, my brain scrambling for something to call myself. I couldn’t be ‘Y.N. the DA’ again, so what should I call myself? I supposed I’d been called  Faded and  Echo a lot recently, but  Faded wasn’t a name, “Um… E- echo ?”

 

“Echo?” he repeated disbelievingly, eyebrow raised as he looked up from the papers. 

 

“I-I think?” Was all I could reply.

 

Jerry seemed satisfied with my pulse as he pulled a stethoscope from around his neck with one hand and a pen and notepad from his breast pocket with the other. He set the notepad and pen down, plugged the stethoscope into his ears, then began taking notes as he listened to my heart. I watched him intently, fascinated by how smoothly he did his job. I was pulled out of my reverie when Hernandez tapped my shoulder, informing me that Jerry had a wife.

 

“I – sorry, what?” I asked.

 

“I asked if that was a first or last name,” he said with a slight hint of weariness.

 

“L-last, I think,” I said,  realizing that I still didn’t know my gender.

 

Jerry seemed done with my heart and moved behind me to listen to my lungs.

 

“And what happened to bring you in here, naked, at almost midnight?” Hernandez prodded.

 

I took a deep breath before hesitating, “I have no idea. I woke up in an alleyway. Honestly, I don’t even know who or where I am.”

 

The line of questioning went on like this for some time; lots of questions I had no answers to. Jerry said I was decently healthy, but with signs of significant vertebral damage and that I’d probably be best off getting checked into the hospital. He took his leave to inform the hospital staff of a possible Jane Doe (Jane? So I was female?) with cervical trauma, bidding goodbye to Dave (Hernandez’s first name, I guessed) and giving me a reassuring smile.

 

“Don’t worry, we’ll find out who you are. The police here are real good at that,” he bid as he left.

 

I nodded and Dave pulled out a fingerprinting kit from a briefcase on the table I hadn’t noticed before. He took my fingerprints and a cheek swab  DNA sample before I was escorted to the hospital. After some time, I was hooked up to a heart monitor, on a saline drip for dehydration, and told to rest under the warmed blankets. Since it was so late, it would be a couple hours before they could X-Ray my neck to see if I required surgery, so I lay in the awkward position I was instructed to and contemplated my next move. I needed to find out  if this body had an identity or if I truly was someone new, but if I was  right I also needed to find allies to help me combat  Dark . I wondered who I’d go to. Had I still been DA, I would have gone to Damien, but that was impossible now for several reasons. 

 

_ ‘Wait _ ,’ I thought,  _ ‘Didn’t he say something about Mark walking around in his body all those years ago? Maybe I ought to pay our old ‘friend’ a visit... Wonder if he held on to Damien’s position as  _ _ mayor _ _?’  _ So I had an echoic thought process now, interesting.

 

Another thought crossed my mind. What of the Colonel? I should see if I can find him. The TV above my bed turned itself on and Damien’s face popped up on the screen, giving a speech about… Hold on, wait!  _ That was Mark _ ! This was a recent newsreel about something the  mayor did for the  city ! I almost stood up and definitely yelled.

 

“That’s Mark!” I hollered at the screen before I could stop myself, “Don’t you dare call him Damien, you monsters!”

 

A nurse with steely eyes and  grey hair sped into my room with a serious and concerned expression, “What’s wrong? Why are you yelling?”

 

I  realized what I was doing and gulped, lying back down as if nothing happened, “S-sorry, I… I don’t know what came over me.”

 

“ Hmph . Are you feeling alright? Your heart rate is extremely high,” she noted, looking at the loudly beeping monitor.

 

I had to lie my way out of that one with my foot in my mouth, but eventually the nurse was assuaged and turned the TV off. Apparently it had been turning itself on for a while now. Once I was alone again, I thanked the universe for showing me Mark and resumed resting.

 

After all was said and done with the X-Ray, I was instructed to wait until the police found my identity or I remembered something. So all there was to do was sleep and wait. The  misaligned vertebrae weren’t a huge deal, I’d just need a chiropractor. It was good to know my neck wasn’t broken… again. My sleep was fitful, haunted by Dark in the void, taunting me a little differently each time.

 

“Get out of my head,” I snarled one night.

 

“You would like that, wouldn’t you? But no, I don’t think I will. You and I are connected, after all. Since I’ve got you here again, we can talk civilly,” he mocked.

 

“What do you want?”

 

“I just want a chance to talk with you. You’ve become someone new, but you still don’t have any idea what you’re doing. That means I’m still in control,” he grinned sadistically, clasping his hands behind his back, “But I suppose I can give you a hint, since you still deserve something for creating me.”

 

“Oh, go fuck a cactus.”

 

He 'tsk'ed, “That’s not very ladylike.  But here, I’ll leave you with this: go find a friend of mine. His name is Seán.” He smirked and bowed, then disappeared as I was shaken from sleep.

 

Dr. Mallard had been alerted to my dream by the heart monitor and needed to make sure I was okay. I told him I was fine, just a really bad dream. 

 

“I know I told you to rest, and you still should, but I’m starting to suspect you may be concussed. Try not to doze off and I’ll schedule some tests, okay?” He said.

 

I shrugged dismissively, “Alright, I guess. I’ll try my best.”

 

“I’ll let you know when we’re ready for the tests,” he told me, standing up and leaving, “I’ll get a nurse around to keep an eye on you.”

 

I grunted in response, thinking hard about what Dark had told me to do.

 

‘ _ Go find Seán, huh? How about I don’t and say I didn’t? I don’t think I’d like him if he’s  _ _ Dark _ _ ’s friend. He sounds like really bad news. _ ’ 

 

The next few days were spent trying to come up with memories that didn't exist and praying no identity for my body was found. The visits with the chiropractor were mercifully short, though painful as we reset my neck, and an MRI was done to make sure I didn’t have a severe concussion. As I suspected, I was concussion free. Another relief came when Officer Hernandez came by to explain that my fingerprints came back negative, my  DNA wasn’t in the system, and there were no missing persons that matched my description.

 

At this point, I’d caught glances of myself in windows and studied my face (and less  savory features) in the hospital’s mirrors, even though I hated them for well-explored reasons. I was indeed female. My eyes were hazel-green and had a hint of a slant to them. I couldn’t tell if I had Asian heritage or not since my hair was wavy, strawberry blonde, about shoulder length. My nose was a little big, but I don’t know why I was concerned with that. I was pasty, but there was definitely a hint of olive to my skin tone. I could very possibly have Asian heritage. I definitely was not the prettiest girl in the world.

 

I could work with this, though, since I was still pretty androgynous and flat chested. Ah but what the hell, I thought I was okay-looking all the same. Just enough to blend in and go pretty much unnoticed in a  crowd, which I figured would work to my benefit. 

 

As I got more used to my new form, I started to notice some peculiarities about myself. At first I made nothing of it, but over time I started  realizing that I would just suddenly be places with no memory of  travelling there and no time seeming to have passed between when I wanted to get there and getting there. Something seemed dreadfully familiar about this, and I didn’t like it. I’d noticed something like this back then, hadn’t I?

 

Others noticed it, too. Nurses, doctors, and other patients would gasp or shriek and ask me how I got here, to which I had no definitive answer. Sometimes I’d find myself out of the hospital and have to trudge my way back, getting to know the three or so blocks around it quite well before I would have to be discharged. I was released into police custody after a week, and the search for some identity came up. More often than not, I would sit in an apartment granted to me by the state as we tried to find my identity and come up with memories that still just didn’t exist.

 

Several months after my discharge, I sat in the kitchenette of my little apartment across from Sandra, my caseworker, as we had a small breakfast and talked over my file. We’d become something like friends in the short time we’d known each other, even if she always seemed a little exasperated with my whole zero-memories issue.

 

“Look, you’ve got to have some memory of someone who might be able to identify you. I don’t care if it’s the governor at this point,” She sighed, “But you’ve  gotta help me beyond ‘I don’t know’.”

 

I’d been fighting with  Dark in most of my dreams and I was getting desperate to find people who could help me. So as I rubbed my eyes over a mug of weak coffee, I mumbled, “ Mayor Damien might be able to help me.”

 

“The  mayor ?” she asked disbelievingly, “Don’t be sarcastic and unhelpful now.”

 

“M ’ not being sarcastic,” I responded slowly, “Dun’ have the energy.”

 

“More nightmares?”

 

“You know it.”

 

By this point, I’d been working at a coffee shop as a  barista to pay my medical bills and try to get on my feet, and as such I’d grown quite addicted to coffee. Damn  Dark and his head-games! I didn’t want to have any vices in this life, they’d only slow me down!

 

“Hey,  Echo , come back to Earth!” She said, snapping her fingers next to my ear, “Sandra to  Echo , come in  Echo , how’s Mars, over?”

 

I nearly snorted coffee up my nose in surprise, having dozed off with my eyes open again. I’d managed to fall asleep with a sip of coffee in my mouth this  time, and had to stop everything in a coughing fit while I choked. Sandra covered a laugh with a cough that I didn’t dignify with a response. Despite the lack of help I’d been so far, she and I managed to be on good terms and she patted me on the back while I cleared my airways.

 

“So about the  mayor being able to help you,” she prodded once I could breathe again without tears in my eyes.

 

“Yeah,” I croaked, “It’s not quite a memory, but I swear to you I know he can help me.”

 

“ Y’know what? I’ll  humor you. This is the first possible lead we’ve had in weeks besides this Seán name you’ve brought up, so to hell with it. I’ll call up his office and see if we can’t get you a meeting with him.”

 

With that, she stood up, grabbed the phone book, and walked over to my kitchen phone. I sat at the table, wondering what I’d say to Mark if I got face-to-face with him. Part of me wanted to play coy and fuck around, but another part of me said to play it straight. I stared into my coffee, hoping to scribe some answer out of it. If it had any, it wasn’t going to talk that easily and remained silent. Celine would be able to get an answer, but she was gone. If Damien were still around, I could just call him up and chat but he was gone too. 

 

I sighed and growled at my brown-tinted reflection. Mark was at least partially responsible for this and I was going to confront him with it. He was going to help me set things right whether he wanted to or not. He’d gotten off scot free for what had happened in his mansion and I was going to bring him to some form of justice, whether or not I was the DA.

 

“He has?” I overheard Sandra say to someone over the phone once I was done begging my coffee for answers, “When’s he free next?”

 

I guessed Mark had heard of me and wanted to play the good  mayor and do something to help a poor amnesiac. I scoffed inwardly, tired and cranky to the point where everything just  spiraled in on itself and dragged a bad mood out of me. I pounded the rest of my coffee and stood up, told Sandra that I was going to go shower and stalked to the bathroom, silently fuming. It may have been my day off, but no matter how busy Mark was, he and I were going to have a long heart-to-heart. I wanted to be at least presentable when I punched him in the nose. I closed the bathroom door and stripped, yanked my hair out of its short ponytail with a wince, and ran myself a cold shower. 

 

I had discovered I don’t like hot showers in this life, but cold ones aren’t much fun to stay in long, so I rushed through my usual routine and got out as fast as I could. I grabbed a towel, announced I was coming out, and gave Sandra only a couple seconds to react before I bolted from the bathroom down the  hall to my bedroom. Since I was going to meet with the  mayor , I pulled out my only decent set of clothes, the ones that weren’t from Goodwill, and stared at them long and hard until I felt real again. My therapist, Danny, called it dissociation and said it’s a type of coping mechanism. I called it annoying and didn’t know what I was coping with besides the trauma of... you know, dying.

 

After I stuffed myself into pantyhose, decent soft-pink shoes, and my tan skirt suit, I walked out into the living room where Sandra waited with an excited look in her eyes.

 

“You’ll never believe it!”

 

“Did he agree to see me?” I asked with a half  eye-roll .

 

She was bouncing on the balls of her feet, “Yes! And today!”

 

This dragged my eyebrow upwards. I’d already planned on seeing him  regardless of today being a good day for him, but for him to just agree? Something smelled fishy to me.

 

“When’s he free?” I wanted to know, trying to hide the nervous adrenaline spiking into my system. There was no way he could’ve known who I was. Yet.

 

“Whenever! I spoke with him directly and he said whenever you get the time is good for him.”

 

Okay yeah, that’s suspect as all hell and my eyebrow arched further, “That’s… convenient. You seem awfully excited, Sand, what’s up with you?”

 

“This may be the break we’ve needed is all,” she said, taking a breath and composing herself, “I’ll be glad to see you get some memories back.”

 

I shrugged, jerking my thumb at the door, “Wanna get going? I’d wanted to talk with Dan today, but this is more important.”

 

She agreed and we set out, quickly locking up behind us and making our way down the three flights of stairs to the parking lot and her car. We were both panting softly by the time we got there and the ride to City Hall was a quiet one, despite her Fleetwood Mac CD being cranked far too loud. Who listens to Fleetwood Mac on full blast? No one but Sandra, I reasoned. 

 

Climbing the steps of City Hall, I realized just how nervous I was. This was the man whose insidious plot for revenge got me killed, and I was just going to waltz up out of nowhere, looking completely different, and confront him with his past sins. I was no priest! Hell, I was just some amnesiac barista with two inch heels that made her a towering 5’3”. Damien had been 5’10” for as long as I’d known him, but this was years later, so who knew how the time had changed his body, especially with Mark in control. What I was getting at, as I panted in the doorway of the white and beige building, was that there was no way I’d be intimidating to the guy.

 

Sandra stood at my side, panting as well. She was several years older and around sixty pounds heavier, and so fared worse on cardio day than I did. Not that I’d become athletic recently. I stretched my legs and back while Sandra and I waited for our breathing to return to normal. Once we were able to breathe normally again, we set off, this time taking the elevator. We talked about nothing in particular as we rode the few floors up, mostly complaining about stairs and how exercise should be illegal.

 

About halfway up, I  realized that I forgot to put on makeup and before I could  rationalize it, a spike of adrenaline shot through me like a lightning bolt. My chest went tight and my head swam. A full-on anxiety attack was coming, and I had to pause and remind myself it didn’t matter if I wore makeup or not and that, in this very moment, I was doing what I was put back on this world to do. Why did I even care? I never wore makeup! I took several deep breaths, in through the nose and out through the mouth, centering myself successfully. I’d have to thank Danny for that exercise.

 

“You okay, girl?” Sandra asked, putting her hand on my shoulder.

 

I looked up and smiled ruefully, “Yeah, just nervous. I didn’t put on makeup.”

 

She laughed and shook her head, “You look fine. Maybe a little tired, but fine. You’re young, you don’t have to worry about makeup yet, anyway. This isn’t about appearances anyway, this is about getting your life back!”

 

_ ‘In more ways than one,’ _ I thought.

 

I took a deep breath as the elevator chimed and the doors opened, “Let’s do this!”

 

We walked down the  hall and into the secretary’s office where Sandra introduced herself to the guy at the desk. The word I found best described him was ‘squirrelly’, as he reminded me a lot of my first impressions of Jerry. He was very thin and wiry, built like a gymnast, with deep brown hair, lots of acne scars, and wide, blue eyes. He looked like someone’s kid brother and I had the most intense desire to protect this kid. I didn’t care if he was a kid or not, I wanted to protect him.

 

He said hello and I noticed his name plank read ‘Ethan’. I didn’t  recognize him, so I guessed he was newer. Amy must’ve left sometime while I was trapped in the mirror. I smiled when he looked at me and offered his hand. I took it with as confident a shake as I could and bid the pleasantries despite my brain running a million miles per hour. We talked for a brief moment about what we hoped to do and I asked if I could see ‘Damien’ in his office. Sandra offered to go in with me, but I wanted to talk alone, so I made up some BS about feeling like other people would interfere with recovery. Ethan said it should be alright and hit a button on what looked like a phone receiver and notified ‘Damien’ that I was there. Sandra nodded with a big, confident smile and went to sit in one of the many comfortable-looking chairs around the foyer.

 

My heart pounded when I heard Damien’s voice tell Ethan to show me in and I knew there was no turning back now.


End file.
